But it also didn’t want to panic the inhabitants into a premature stampede, which might create enough confusion to allow some of the intended victims to escape.
Random gunfire, even at the levels Nguyen and his men had been putting out, was a common enough occurrence, and would probably be dismissed by anyone who heard it as simple gang activity. But a Terminator’s multi-barreled gun would have a very distinctive and recognizable sound, and opening fire with one might well start the panic Skynet wanted to avoid.
Which meant that the Terminator striding toward them would probably hold off using its gun until and unless it calculated that its latest victims were on the verge of getting away. The trick would be to keep it thinking it was in control, right up to the moment when it suddenly wasn’t.
All Kyle had to do now was find a way to do that.
He glanced around the alley, then turned back to the Terminator. Bracing himself, he reached into his bag and pulled out the lighter and another bomb. If the machine decided these bombs were a threat and that it needed to open fire…
But it didn’t, not even when Kyle touched the lighter’s flame to the fuse. Having already watched one of the bombs go off, the Terminator had apparently concluded that the weapon didn’t have enough yield to stop it.
It was probably still thinking that as Kyle ran the fuse down to two seconds and then lobbed it beneath the rusting pickup truck the machine was passing. The bomb exploded, flipping the pickup up onto one side and straight on top of the Terminator, slamming it to the ground with a horrendous crash.
Slamming it squarely on top of the forest of rebar protruding through the concrete.
Kyle didn’t know how much damage being shoved into all those metal spikes would do to the Terminator. But for the moment, all he cared about was that the killing machine was temporarily immobilized. Shoving Star out of the way behind one of the angled slabs of pavement, he pulled out two more bombs and lit their fuses. He ran over to the pickup, already starting to shake as the trapped Terminator tried to free itself, and shoved the two bombs between the twisted stalks of rebar directly beneath the Terminator’s torso and hips.
The Terminator’s arm snapped out, the metal hand trying to grab Kyle’s wrist. Kyle managed to jerk back out of the way in time, then turned and sprinted for the pavement slab where he’d left Star.
He ducked around behind it, wrapping his arms around the little girl, and squeezed his eyes shut.
The bombs went off together, the blasts much louder this time. Kyle waited until the sound had faded, then peeked cautiously around the slab.
The pickup had been blown up against the alley’s side and was half leaning, half sagging against the wall. Still pressed into the rebar where the truck had been was the Terminator.
The machine was a mess. Nearly all of the rubber skin directly over the bombs had been disintegrated, exposing the scorched and blackened metal body beneath it. On the Terminator’s face and legs, which had been farther from the blasts, some of the skin remained, smoldering with an acrid smoke.
But its lack of skin was the least of the machine’s problems. The bomb that Kyle had wedged beneath its hips had shattered the joints there, severing the legs from the rest of the body. The arms were in nearly as bad a shape, with the left completely disconnected from the torso and the right just barely hanging on by a couple of cables. The Terminator’s neck had managed to survive the blast, but the back of the head showed a deep dent, probably sustained during the pickup’s initial impact.
There was a hesitant touch on Kyle’s arm, and he turned to see Star staring wide-eyed at the wreckage.
Kyle took a deep breath and looked back at the Terminator.
“I think—”
Without warning, the machine’s metal skull turned toward Kyle, its red eyes glowing balefully up at him.
Kyle jerked backward. The Terminator’s right arm twitched, and Kyle tore his gaze from the blazing eyes to look at it.
Slowly, moving in starts and stops, the arm was creeping back toward the shoulder.
Kyle felt his eyes widen. How in the world—?
There was a sudden gasp from beside him, and he jerked again as Star pounced forward to grab the Terminator’s detached left arm. She lifted it up, staggering and grunting with the load.
“Careful,” Kyle warned as he reached over and took it from her. The metal arm wasn’t just heavy—it was somehow pulling itself toward the Terminator’s shoulder.
Clutching the metal arm to his chest, Kyle leaned against the pull and managed to take a step backward. To his relief, the pressure eased, and the next step was even easier. Two steps more, and there was no pull at all.
He looked down at the arm that was pressed to his chest. So it wasn’t some sort of evil Skynet magic. It was just a simple electromagnet, or set of electromagnets, embedded inside the gleaming metal to help the Terminator reassemble itself if someone managed to blow it apart.
But apparently only if its severed pieces were close enough together.
“Yeah, I think we can do something about that,” Kyle muttered. Tucking the spare arm under his right arm, he reached into his bomb bag.
And twisted to the side as something shot past his face.
He ducked down, spinning around. Another Terminator had appeared in the far end of the alley, and was striding toward them with a piece of broken brick gripped in its left hand.
“Run!” Kyle snapped at Star, ducking again as the Terminator hurled the brick at him.
This time, the machine’s aim was better. The sharp-edged missile slammed into Kyle’s right shoulder, sending a stab of pain down his whole side. He threw the mechanical arm he was holding at the machine, then snatched out his Colt and fired a quick shot before turning and running for all he was worth. He caught up with Star at the alley mouth, grabbed her hand, and yanked her to the left. Another brick whistled past just as they made it around the corner.
The footing was better here on the street, allowing them to pick up their speed a little. Kyle glanced over his shoulder as they ran, wondering if the two Terminators who had attacked Nguyen’s men had also joined in this new hunt. But to his relief, the street north of them was clear.
So far.
He turned back around, gripping Star’s hand and trying to come up with a plan. The minute that second Terminator made it through the alley he and Star would be back in its line of fire. And this time, it might decide it would be easier all around to simply shoot the two of them down.
Which meant Kyle had to find them a hiding place.
Or else he had to find someone more worthy of getting shot at.
Despite his fatigue and fear, he felt a tight grin touch his lips. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could do both at the same time.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Connor was going over the approach plan with David’s group when he heard the faint sound of gunfire.
“Quiet!” he snapped.
The room went instantly silent. Everyone froze, all ears tuned toward the distant noise. It was coming from a single weapon, Connor decided, probably a large-caliber handgun. There was a pause, just long enough for the shooter to change clips, then more shots, then another pause.
And then, abruptly, the first gun’s reports were buried beneath a cacophony of new gunfire.
Connor listened intently, trying to sort out the types of weapons being fired. Most were handguns, but he could also hear the deeper roar of rifle fire in the mix, along with the distinctive boom of shotguns. Across the room, the sentry opened the door a few centimeters, bringing the sounds more sharply into focus.
And then, briefly overwhelming even the noise from the guns, came the thud of an explosion.
Connor looked at Kate, seeing his own tension mirrored in the tightness of her face. Gunfire—
